


Kit and Caboodle

by tiggeryumyum



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bar Fight, M/M, Queening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 18:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13105791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiggeryumyum/pseuds/tiggeryumyum
Summary: Bokuto is a happy drunk, until there's a reason not to be.





	Kit and Caboodle

**Author's Note:**

> "Queening" is when you sit on someone's face and it's like your throne. Sexually.

One to two drink Bokuto is happy.

Three to five drink Bokuto laughs before reaching the punchline of his own jokes, likes reckless dares, karaoke, arm wrestling, wrapping his arm around shoulders, rustling hair, and any other excuse to touch and be touched by his friends, and by Akaashi. 

Six to seven drink Bokuto likes to lean in close to Akaashi, whisper filthy, vulgar things, growling playfully and sometimes – sometimes – if no one else is watching, if they're all distracted with their own drinks and nonsense, and Bokuto will never remember, not such a small, insignificant detail – Akaashi will give a few token attempts to escape, because there's very little else on earth like Bokuto's thick arms tightening around him, feeling some of the strength sober to drink five Bokuto has too much self-control to use on his friends. Six to seven drink Bokuto often whispers lewd little ideas he's come up with, what he'd like to do to Akaashi, right there, wherever there happens to be. On the table of the bar, a bench in the locker room. Kuroo's living room. Talking about how nice it looks when Akaashi starts impaling himself on Bokuto's cock and sobs with gratitude for Bokuto being hard enough, big enough to split him open so wide, go so deep, fuck him so, so hard. 

So, drunk Bokuto is that; horny, touchy. Sometimes weepy, from nine drinks on, suffering from the need to communicate just how much Akaashi, volleyball, Komi, his mother, barbeque, and Mizuki Horii mean to him. 

Today, they're drinking in a back room of a local bar, celebrating the fact that the week has successfully progressed from Thursday to Friday. Bokuto and Kuroo were the first to arrive, and have been holding down their table since the early afternoon. They've reached their peak intoxication for the night, and are very loud and happy about it.

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi says, resting his hand on Bokuto's forearm, twisting slightly to indicate he would like to stand.

"Hm? Akaashi?"

"Let go."

" _Why_?" Six to seven drink Bokuto asks, eyes narrowed in suspicion, searching Akaashi's face for signs that this is a test or riddle or trick. 

"I have to go to the restroom."

" _Akaaaaashi_ ," he whines.

"Bokuto."

" _What?_ "

"Let go. Right now."

Bokuto whines, long and childish as he slowly, slowly releases his boyfriend. 

"I'm coming back," Akaashi feels the need to remind him as he smooths down his shirt, so deep is Bokuto's frown.

"Don't get lost!!!"

Akaashi nods, stepping out and sliding the door shut behind him. 

The bathrooms are on the other side of the bar, and the space has filled significantly with people during his time in the back. Keenly aware of the warmth of Bokuto's touch fading from his skin, Akaashi crosses the crowd as quickly as he can, squeezing by groups of red faced salary men and rambunctious college students. 

"Hello!!" a girl says this in stiff Japanese when he brushes by. "How are you??"

She bows deeply at her waist and Akaashi attempts to keep going, telling himself she could be talking to anyone, but she glances up from her exaggerated bow, and makes pointed eye contact.

This bar is a popular destination for tourists, and growing up in Toyko in general has made Akaashi accustomed to their various brands of strangeness. Walking up to utter strangers in bars to start up conversations, as though they were at a house party, armed with a few Americanized Japanese phrases at best, is a fairly benign type. She seems sincere, and a bit hopeless, so Akaashi gives her a short, nodding bow back. 

"Hello," he says.

"Uhm – " she says, and then a long bit of English. 

Akaashi can write and read the language passably, but has always struggled with actually using it in a spoken conversation, finding it unwieldy in real time. This has only gotten worse since leaving high school and mandatory English curriculum, and he can't begin to guess what she said, but manners won't let him simply leave it there. 

After a moment the girl seems to realize this, trying again in Japanese. "Drink?"

Akaashi raises an eyebrow. There's a half empty drink in his hand, an empty drink in hers, and a bar is a place to obtain drinks, he really has no idea which one she's referring to.

"Yes," he says.

"Drink?" she asks again, firmer. "More drink?"

Ah. "That way," Akaashi says, gesturing toward the bar around the next corner, and leaves her to it. 

He's on his way back from the restroom when he sees the girl again, still on her quest for _drink, more drink_ , hovering uncertainly at the edge of the crowd, obviously overwhelmed by the people and the menus. 

"Uhm!" she's trying, but the bartender hasn't heard her awkward attempt to get his attention. She is short and quiet. 

If a volleyball were to happen to enter one to three drink Bokuto's eyeline, he would immediately attempt to find the best and most satisfying way to slam his palm into it as hard as he possibly can. Akaashi is not completely sober himself, and unfortunately there's a similar type of instinctive call in himself when he sees someone particularly hopeless and failing miserably.

"Do you need help?" he asks.

"Oh!" she says, and bows again. "Hello!"

"Hello," Akaashi says. "What drink do you want?"

"Drink! Yes!"

"Yes," he repeats, already regretting this. He points to her empty cup. "More of that?"

Instead of answering, her eyes lock on something just behind Akaashi. 

"Oh," she says, sounding nervous. "Nathan – "

A large hand grips Akaashi's shoulder, hard and tight.

Akaashi shakes it off instinctively, whirling around – the stranger, presumably Nathan, is a young man, and a cartoonishly furious one. 

"Hey - " Akaashi tries, and is immediately interrupted by a lot of very angry, slurred English.

Akaashi can't understand most of it, but from a few keywords – _flirt_ , _girlfriend_ , _trouble_ – he picks up the gist. He lifts his hands, palms forward, less a gesture of surrender and more to emphasize line of the space he does not want this stranger to cross. 

" _No_ ," he says, in English, frustrated as he tries to remember more words, but the alcohol, the man's angry face leaning in close to his, and the shouting make it hard to think. 

Nathan grabs the front of Akaashi's shirt, jerking him forward, still shouting angry gibberish. Akaashi is hardly small, but this man is big enough that this is an imposing thing, and Akaashi grabs for his hand on his shirt, trying to peel it off, gritting his teeth when it's not immediately successful.

" _Hey!_ "

The scene freezes, both Akaashi and Nathan look toward the shout, loud enough to silence the cramped bar wholesale. Bokuto, standing in the doorway of their back room, probably on his way to investigate what was taking Akaashi so long. 

He slams the door shut behind him, pushes his way through the crowd, and Nathan releases Akaashi.

Bokuto has yet to successfully verbalize the difference between a noun and a verb, but annoyingly, has some kind of innate ability for foreign languages, including English. His never scored higher than an sixty in the class itself, but he is able to watch western movies without subtitles, hold more or less fluent conversations – usually directions to lost tourists. 

Nathan shouts something at Bokuto, and even on the backslide of his intoxication, Bokuto has no problem keeping up, shouting back something in reply.

Still, the language of drunk bar fight is universal, Akaashi can tell this is escalating, and grimaces, stepping in front of Bokuto, standing between them. 

"It was a misunderstanding," Akaashi says. "Tell him – "

Nathan, apparently finding a more satisfying barroom adversary in Bokuto, puts a hand on Akaashi's chest, and shoves him aside. Akaashi grunts, stumbling back, blinking in surprise more than anything else.

Bokuto's eyes flash. He visibly bristles. 

Bokuto is angry. 

Akaashi stares. 

Drunk Bokuto doesn't get angry.

Sober Bokuto – has never been angry, but Akaashi knows that's an idiotic, impossible thought immediately. Bokuto doesn't censor himself, and Akaashi has seen Bokuto in enraging, frustrating situations. He's seen him struggle with loss in volleyball, he's seen him fume and demoralized by particular teachers who thrilled in painting his schoolwork bright red. He's seen Bokuto snarl and pout when teased by classmates. Even at those times, even at the absolute worst of times, there had been a touch of good humor, a willingness to have his spirits picked up, to be redirected, if only Akaashi, or someone like Akaashi, reached out to make the effort.

"Bokuto-san – " 

Bokuto does not hear him, taking three sure, solid steps up to Nathan, and shoving him hard enough that he takes three steps of his own, stumbling backward. 

Chairs scrape against the ground, the people behind them scattering in gasping delight. Cell phones start rising, the spectators switching to their cameras in anticipation of a fight.

No, that can't happen. 

There can't be footage of this, if it gets back to Bokuto's school – if it becomes public, if people start uploading it alongside videos of Bokuto's spikes, the ones his coaches post to attract attention from scouts - Bokuto has strength built into his chest, his shoulders, his arms, his body is heavy with this strength; even lax and limp, Akaashi is routinely surprised by the sheer weight of Bokuto's hand. He tries to picture the force of one of Bokuto's punches and imagines something spilling blood, cracking bone, a crumpled figure on the floor, dizzy and disoriented. 

Nathan is big himself, but it's soft bigness, naturally occurring and unpolished. Bokuto is in peak shape, Bokuto wakes up around five in the morning and spends several hours lifting weights before going on to practice properly in the gym, he adds powders to his food to help his muscles repair even faster. Bokuto is clearly going to snap him in half.

"Bokuto – _Bokuto-san_ ," Akaashi hisses, stepping in his way again, trying to get in Bokuto's eye-line. Bokuto does stop, but actively peers around Akaashi's head. 

"Boo-kah-too, Boo _kaaah_ to," mimics Nathan in a whiny voice that is nothing like Akaashi's, laughing. 

Anger visibly travels through Bokuto in a shaking, furious shiver, and Akaashi puts his hand on Bokuto's chest, leaning in until his lips press directly against Bokuto's ear.

"I am going home now," Akaashi says, softly, making his voice as cold and unimpressed as possible. "And I'm locking the door when I get there. If you don't come with me now, I'm going to bed alone." He pauses here. "Are you going to make me do that? Fall asleep by myself? After all those promises you made tonight?" 

It's the biggest gun he has in his arsenal. 

Akaashi takes a step back and Bokuto finally looks into Akaashi's face. Akaashi raises an eyebrow. There are much better things Bokuto could do tonight; he has every bit of Akaashi to distract him, and Akaashi does his best to communicate this. 

It works, the rage slowly drains from Bokuto's expression, eyes clearing. 

And then Nathan says something. 

It's a handful of short, sneering words. Akaashi can't understand a single one, but he knows, from the hateful sound alone, all hope is lost.

Bokuto snaps back to that enraged, untouchable fury, pushing Akaashi behind him, and on top of Nathan in less than a second, knocking him to the ground, _slam, slam –_

_Don't,_ is one of the English words Bokuto says. _You_ , _Dare_. Each punctuated with a punch.

Nathan gets in a few good swings, he knocks Bokuto back more than once, but Bokuto will not be deterred or slowed down, shaking the hits off easily. 

Akaashi watches, stunned. He's never seen Bokuto lose it like this, ever, never anything close. He barely sounds human. 

He doesn't realized the stupor he's standing in until Kuroo is there, rushing past Akaashi and wrapping both arms around Bokuto's swinging fist, and this shakes Akaashi into action, hurrying forward to immobilize Bokuto's other arm. 

In the end it takes the combined efforts of Akaashi, Kuroo and Yamamoto to restrain Bokuto, lift him off Nathan, then up, clear of the floor, slamming him into the wall. Kuroo gets his arm across Bokuto's throat, holding him in place, and Bokuto pants hard, scowling into Kuroo's face. After a brief, intense, stare, Kuroo pushes off of him.

Silently, Akaashi takes over from there, grabbing Bokuto by his arm and pulling him back to their private room while Kuroo stays behind to smooth things over with Nathan's companions – possibly not friends, as they're all laughing, jeering, taking pictures of his injuries and poking them while Nathan hisses and shouts.

"Whoa," Konoha says, when the door slides open again, and the room goes silent, staring at the sight Bokuto makes. "What happened?"

"A fight," Akaashi says, shortly.

Bokuto doesn't pull away from Akaashi, he's more or less cooperative. He sits down heavily where Akaashi directs him, both hands in fits, pressing into the table top, glaring down at his wall of emptied mugs.

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi says sharply, reprimanding – the fight was not as one sided it as it had looked, apparently. Tipping Bokuto's face upward to examine the swelling on his cheek, Akaashi sees the blood from Bokuto's nose mingling down into the blood from a split lip. Bokuto doesn't pay it any mind, wiping it away with his forearm roughly, then wincing as he brushes against his certainly tender nose. 

Akaashi puts a hand on Bokuto's wrist, pushing it down, using a ice cube wrapped in a napkin to clean the area properly.

"Yeah, uh," Kuroo says, mildly, leaning in the doorway. "We're getting kicked out for the night."

" _Aww_ ," everyone moans. 

Bokuto says nothing. He hasn't for a while. 

Akaashi thinks maybe he's not listening, too drunk and too angry, but he's the first to stand, movements jerky as he gathers his jacket and leaves the room. Akaashi quickly grabs what he guesses to be at least enough to cover their bill, passing it to Komi before rushing out after.

Bokuto's still got that wild rage in him. It's calmed, somewhat, but he moves down the street like he marched toward Nathan, like there's something important that has to be done, to be broken, and Akaashi follows, feeling like a shadow. Able to observe, but that's all. He's learned how to handle Bokuto through trial and error, and looking at the way Bokuto's shoulders shift under his shirt, too angry to even pull on his jacket in the cold winter air, it feels like any error here will be higher than he's used to. Akaashi doesn't even know where to begin his point of attack.

Bokuto lives on the third floor of his apartment building, and Akaashi is unsurprised when he goes for the stairwell, too restless to wait for the elevator. He's not even stomping, the way he would typically show displeasure, broadcasting it in wide, obvious, goofy pantomime. He's taking the steps with rapid, annoyed efficiency, and Akaashi finds himself straining to keep up.

He's still a few steps behind when they make it to Bokuto's apartment, and Bokuto storms in, leaving the door wide open, chucking his jacket against the wall, and Akaashi winces, hoping his phone is in his back pocket.

"I'm mad!" Bokuto yells abruptly, throwing his keys at the kitchen counter, where they bounce, then fly off, into the living room and disappear under the couch.

"I see," Akaashi says, watching him pace, lingering in the doorway, closing it behind him in a cautious, quiet movement.

"I don't like that he did that!" Bokuto says. "I'm mad, Akaashi!"

"Yes."

"I'm _really_ mad!!"

"Yes."

"I'm," Bokuto clenches his fist, teeth grit, inhaling shakily, deeply. It sounds like calming down, so the sudden swing toward the wall nearly makes Akaashi shout in surprise, jumping slightly. 

They blink at the hole Bokuto left in the wall. 

"I'm going home, Bokuto-san," he says, finally. "I'll see you when you're sober."

Bokuto makes a noise that's too angry to be a whimper, too deep to be petulant. Animalistic and disgruntled. 

Akaashi leaves.

~

"I'm sorry, Akaashi," the Bokuto Akaashi knows leaves this message on his answering machine, sounding sincere, but vaguely bewildered, like he's not entirely sure what happened to begin with. "I'm really sorry! I don't know what I did but I really feel like I should be really, really sorry!! So know that I am, alright Akaashi??"

Akaashi stares at his phone as this plays, head swimming from last night, struggling to focus. When it finishes, he opens a text.

 **Me** :  
You didn't do anything to me that needs an apology. 

**Bokuto** :  
Realy??  
everyone had to go home early  
cause of me  
kuroo said that

 **Me** :  
Then apologize to them.

His phone starts ringing. Akaashi doesn't answer.

In middle school, after a frustrating disagreement about his grades with a teacher, Akaashi punched his locker in anger. 

He wonders, if he had been aiming at something that wasn't made of metal, if his fist would've gone through it, too. It's not that unusual, he thinks, for normal people. In his childhood home, an outright insult would've been akin to a flying rage. His father and mother are mild, quiet people and Akaashi knows he's tempered in this same way, even if he doesn't have their kindness or mildness. Outbursts are not something he's used to. But everything Bokuto does is an outburst.

Akaashi blinks, and grabs his phone.

 **Me** :  
Your keys are under your couch.

 **Bokuto** :  
AKAASHI!!!!!!!!  
INCREDIBLE!!!!!!!!

Akaashi stares down at the screen. 

He doesn't know what he thinks about Bokuto's display. Still, he ends up masturbating to the memory three times that weekend.

He's not sure what it is that does it. 

Bokuto's loss of control? Or just the obvious display of brute strength? Some combination of both, maybe, and the fact that it's a safe thing to explore now, as the incident has passed, proving itself to be harmless… ?

It's something that teases at the back of his mind, just out of reach, even as he bites his lip hard and sees himself done to the confusing, tight knot of pleasure it creates in his gut.

He would like to investigate deeper, but this scenario was certainly a one-time thing. A real fight is something he will continue to avoid at all costs, and attempting anything fake – any kind of role play, would feel ridiculous, especially when Akaashi doesn't particularly know what he wants out of it. He's sure it wasn't any kind of thrill from being avenged, though he understands why that drove Bokuto the way it did, and it is equal parts touching as it is infuriating.

Eventually, he start to wonder – imagine – fantasize – what would've happened if he had stayed in Bokuto's apartment that night. Bokuto was still drunk, and Akaashi is fairly sure it wouldn't have been impossible to channel his energies into something more satisfying.

He wonders – imagines – fantasizes – what it would've been like to be at the receiving end of that. Maybe it is just that, then. A primal, reptilian brained level of pleasure. Framing it in that way, unfortunately, doesn't make it any less appealing to his dick.

~

He does see footage of the fight, apparently sent to Kuroo by one of the tourists that night, after they exchanged contact information. 

It's on an English site labeled in English descriptions, with a comment section below, also in English. Bokuto isn't named, isn't wearing his school's colors, and would likely be difficult to identify. The last of Akaashi's concerns about the incident fade properly away, and he pauses a moment, mouse hovering over the video - but really, he knows very well he doesn't posses the depth of will power needed for this to go unwatched. The shameful excitement that's been following him for weeks starts stirring in his gut, waking eagerly, as he clicks play.

It starts after the initial confrontation, Akaashi on the screen already has his hands up. 

"What were you trying to pull? That's my girlfriend you're flirting with, asshole, you want to start something??" is the English Akaashi had not understood at the time. 

His answering _No_ is so firm it's hard to believe he didn't understand the question he'd be asked. He's much shorter than Nathan, it's more obvious on this video, and he knows the difference in his size compared to Bokuto will be the same.

A sudden surge of something similar to embarrassment, but not quite, overcomes him, and in an act of cowardice he quickly scrolls down to escape actually watching the thing, reading the comments below.

> _When the bar bear emerges from the back it reminds me of a cut scene where the big boss arrives in a game_

> _;Bar bear really looked ready to kill a man. Nathan's lucky the guy he was trying to beat up was nice enough to slow him down, talk about a good samartan._

> _Not a Good Samaritan, definitely bar bear's friend._

> _Yeah that was some pro-level friending._

> _Real friends don't help you move bodies, they stop you from killing someone in the first place._

> _You can see bar bear's friend completely defused the situation. Didn't even use any physical force or anything. He must have known just what to say. Good friend._

> _Not just good friend, brave friend. look at that bar bear's fucking size but more than that is how fast he snapped from chill to berserker. I'll take a guy like that over some stone cold Tough Guy attitude. And by "take" I mean, "bet on." His friend has balls of steel to stand in the way like that._

> _looks like he's done it before. if anything bar bear looked nervous about whatever his friend was whispering lol._

> _seriously look at that face lmao. He was stopped stone cold. Too bad for nathan he was too dumb to let it drop._

Akaashi scrolls back up to the video. He watches again. 

The high contrast of the video does make Bokuto's entrance seem a bit inexplicable, simply stepping out of an undefined dark. His stance and anger at the time had seemed animalsitic, and is even moreso now, making the _bear_ comments fitting. It really doesn't look like anything would be able to stop him from reaching Nathan, and with the way the video is cropped, Akaashi's sudden movement in front of him more pointed is more dramatic still.

Akaashi, on the screen, puts his hand against Bokuto's chest. 

The immediate pause is something Akaashi hadn't appreciated at the time, but Bokuto stopped as though he'd hit a physical wall. 

Akaashi on the screen leans in and Bokuto obviously isn't following anything he says at first, it's slow to process. But the fact that it's Akaashi's voice was enough for Bokuto to stop everything in order to try. 

Akaashi closes the window and walks over to Bokuto's apartment.

"Are you busy?" Akaashi asks when Bokuto opens the door, carefully taking off his scarf, folding it twice, setting it on the entryway table he bought, then brought over to Bokuto's apartment, and positioned by the door, in order for him to set his scarfs.

Bokuto is unsuspicious. The bar fight was almost a month ago, the wounds on Bokuto's face are more or less healed completely, and there's no wince as he grins. "No!"

"Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?"

"No. Hey, did you take a shower? You smell good – "

Akaashi grabs Bokuto by his shirt, and walks to the bedroom. Bokuto does not protest. He perks in excited, poorly hidden interest when his eyes land on the bed, and falls into it willingly when Akaashi gives him a shove.

"I cleaned myself out in preparation for sitting on your face," Akaashi says, plainly, climbing after him "Any objections?"

Bokuto blinks rapidly, and Akaashi watches the arousal set in Bokuto's face: mouth going slightly slack, eyebrows lifting just slightly, hands wrapping around Akaashi's hips.

"Really?"

Akaashi grips Bokuto by his hair, tipping his head back into the mattress, just slightly. "If you'd like."

Bokuto's fingers press a little firmer into the skin of Akaashi's lower back, as though hoping to encourage him closer to his face, his mouth.

"Yeah," Bokuto says. "I definitely, definitely like."

Bokuto has a fixation with Akaashi's asshole. Any activity he's currently doing to it will always be called his favorite, having to be coaxed to the next step. Akaashi has been left a begging, useless puddle from nothing more than his fingers, simply because Bokuto got preoccupied during prep, fascinated with sticking his thick fingers inside Akaashi and Akaashi's subsequent reactions. This led to anal oral entering their sex play far earlier than Akaashi had anticipated, something he's still adjusting to, and Bokuto is always eager for the chance. 

Bokuto licks up Akaashi's crack without any further preamble, working at the rim in firm, greedy circles of his tongue, and Akaashi feels the slow build of heat melting the tension away, relaxing him enough for Bokuto's tongue to slip inside. Akaashi exhales quietly, shifting to make the angle a little easier while tugging harder at Bokuto's hair.

"I saw the video," Akaashi says. "You in the bar. The fight."

Bokuto's tongue pauses in its movements, then starts up again.

"You were out of control, Bokuto-san," Akaashi says. "Like an animal."

Akaashi lets his eyes drift shut, huffing out quietly as Bokuto works his tongue in deeper, shifting, finding the spot that makes Akaashi spasm. 

He replays the moment in his mind, the evidence of Bokuto's strength, the sudden, pleasing sense of power tingling like a sexual thing when he thinks about all it took to stop it completely was a hand to Bokuto's chest. The absolute, rapt attention Bokuto had given his words, even drunk, even infuriated –

"But you're my animal," he murmurs, yanking at Bokuto's hair again. Bokuto understands the hint this time, going still beneath him, and Akaashi rotates his hips, grinding, finding the pace he prefers to fuck himself on Bokuto's tongue today. 

"God," he says, rocking down onto Bokuto's tongue. "Keep going. Like that."

Bokuto does, mimicking the pace Akaashi had been using, and when Akaashi starts moaning, senseless and loud, adds his fingers, rubbing everywhere, like he's just simply that eager to touch, feel, sticking them in alongside his tongue, pressing along the outside.

"Bokuto – " Akaashi chokes, holding Bokuto's head with both hands, grinding down desperately, shaking all over when he comes, spraying in a sharp, repeated spray against his chest. He sits there another moment, huffing, feeling dazed and blinking slowly. 

He slips backward, off Bokuto's face, mouth still slack as he travels down Bokuto's impressive body.

"Akaashi..?" Bokuto asks, wiping at his mouth. 

"Good," is the awkward thing that comes out of Akaashi's mouth, patting Bokuto's side as he passes it. He pauses at Bokuto's hips, at his dark, ready cock, hard and thick. This is his, too, Akaashi thinks, and grips it boldly. 

Bokuto hisses, arching his body back, encouraging Akaashi's touch. It doesn't sound like a protest. 

He strokes slowly, cataloging Bokuto's reactions.

"Kaashhh – Akaashi – " he moans, surrendering to Akaashi's touch without reservation. His hips rock generously, his strength obvious even here, even in these repeated movements. Akaashi grips Bokuto's hip with one hand, and pushes toward the bed.

Bokuto stills.

Under Akaashi's touch, his hips land against the mattress, and stay. 

Akaashi blinks, head swimming. He ducks down, swallowing down as much of Bokuto as he can, and is unsurprised when he comes, immediately, thick and eager sprays into Akaashi's mouth as he humps shallowly. Of course he wouldn't want Akaashi to choke.

Fuck. Akaashi wipes at the side of his mouth, still feeling in a daze as he considers Bokuto's body. _Mine_ , is the delirious, immensely pleased thought. Bokuto has his arm thrown over his head, breathing hard and fast. After taking a moment, he lifts his arm, and blinks down at Akaashi.

He reaches for Akaashi silently, and without question, without thinking about it, Akaashi answers, crawling up into his arms.


End file.
